This is an excerpt from a novel I read once upon a time, I forgot the name of the author, I only remember that it was a young female writer from Guangdong, mainland China, and the title of the book was called No Embracing.
…somehow, by the age of twelve or thirteen, with no special nutrition, on a diet of fried head lettuce in lard and rice mixed with curd and bean paste, Mabel gradually grew into a very full-grown girl, swollen and painful between her breasts, and racking up her dresses that were short enough to reach her bellybutton.
The landlady in the first room stares at her when she walks into the kitchen to wash the rice. Then one day, Mabel heard her tell the fourth aunt in the end room, “Mabel is so big, she must have been touched!”
As soon as Mabel looked down, her tears rustled like two threads, dripping into the murky brown rice water.
She had let it be touched, and only she knew best. But she couldn’t tell, not even to her mother. Because, that person is her dad.
The first time Dad came up to her loft was at night, when mom was probably already asleep… There wasn’t much homework that night, so Mabel finished it hastily and breathed a sigh of relief. She went to bed very early and closed her eyes for a while, thinking about the fight with her classmates during the day…
She tossed and turned in her bed, thinking about how to avenge this…
She fell asleep with infinite pleasure while imagining the wretchedness of her tablemates. She didn’t hear the bamboo ladder creaking as she stepped on it at all, and someone came up step by step in the darkness.
The loft was low and the black shadow was tall, so the black shadow could only feel his way catlike toward her bed. He reached out and grabbed the small quilt she was covered with that was printed with flower cats and threw it hard in the direction of the window, then kneeled up on the edge of the bed with his legs and used his two big hands to catch her two small developing breasts, rubbing, twisting, and kneading them with all his might.
Mabel opened her eyes in pain. She couldn’t see the face of the dark figure, but she could smell who it was from the smell of sweat on her body and the smoke and alcohol coming out of her mouth, and thus she couldn’t scream, she was afraid that her mother would know. Mother spent her days lying straight down in a corner of the big bed below, and woke up especially easily in the night.
The big hands grew rougher and rougher, more and more wanton, and then lifted up her clothes and reached inside her. The hand that had pulled the twine during the day, worn calluses on the handlebars, and burst into cracks in the fall, played across Mabel’s delicate skin as if it were a sheep, and Mabel was already dying of pain.
She sobbed softly as she bit the corner of the covers, her endurance and horror giving him every step of success and satisfaction. A complete animal, he pulled down his daughter’s flowered pajama pants with a huff.
As his filthy and scorched hand probed the part of Mabel that had been closed and unopened, the pain that had come like a sharp killing had not yet occurred and had taken over Mabel’s soul. She hadn’t tried it before, but perhaps it was innate, or maybe it was the pain of a woman in a previous life that caused her whole body to stir straight, her legs to merge, and every pore to close up.
“Don’t, Dad, don’t…” she begged in a whisper.
Instead of not stopping, he pressed a pillow over her face, kneed her in the arm, and then plunged his index and middle fingers into her cunt, and she let out a defiant scream of pain.
In that instant, she remembered that the tip of the pencil she intended to sharpen tomorrow to use against her deskmate was now hanging in the darkness, and she had a feeling it was about to kill her. Already in fiery pain, she couldn’t bear it any longer and lost her voice.
Pa was really scared off by her. He twisted her cheeks and ears on his way down to the attic, and she heard the creak of the bamboo ladder going down as her ears buzzed.
Again she shed a tear. Must have known, she thought. She’d hurt Mom.
A few years had passed, and Mabel had grown to be very plump…
[End]
Compared to many of the articles on Yuan Yuan, perhaps this one is slightly lighter, and there is not enough space for erotic descriptions, but it can’t be, the original text. I think if any of the masters can, however, use this as an outline for a perfunctory piece, it should be a good source of material.